


The Man I Love

by KitKaos



Category: Arashi (Band), Japanese Actor RPF, Johnny's Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prohibition Era, Fic Exchange, Jazz Age, M/M, Multi, New York City, cross-dressing for justice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-13
Updated: 2014-10-13
Packaged: 2018-02-21 01:54:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2450336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KitKaos/pseuds/KitKaos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On May 18, 1922, at 10:43 PM and 27 seconds, Jun Matsumoto’s eyes met his mystery man’s for the first time through the slow and hazy clouds of cigarette smoke at the Rainbow Club, a small but popular speakeasy not too far from Times Square.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Man I Love - Story

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AlexxaSick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexxaSick/gifts).



> Originally written for the lovely [alexxasick](http://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexxaSick/pseuds/AlexxaSick) over at the short-lived Jun Exchange 2014. She asked for rom-com or dystopian future fic or fantasy, none of which this story turned out to be, even though I tried to incorporate all three elements. Pretty soon, this baby took on a life of its own; it was loads of fun to write and to research all the look and feel and speech patterns of the early Jazz Age (there’s a glossary of 1920s slang terms I used added as a "Chapter 2" here) and I’m actually pretty happy with how it turned out; I hope you are too.
> 
> Thank you so much to [steffilinos](http://archiveofourown.org/users/steffilinos/pseuds/steffilinos) for discussing the plot with me, for holding my hand throughout the whole writing process and for cheering me on! Also a huge thank you to my anon beta for fixing my English!
> 
> But now, without any further ado, enjoy. :)

**_~::||^||_~:: P R O L O G U E**

On May 18, 1922, at 10:43 PM and 27 seconds, one of the first mosquitoes of the year hit the windshield of a New York cab. In those days, most cabs populating the busier and busier streets of the City that Never Sleeps were Ford Model Ts, and so was this one. The mosquito had a quick and merciful death upon impact, unnoticed by Tadayoshi Ogura, the driver of said cab, who was currently chauffeuring young and hitherto little-known musician Arthur Francis (better known as Ira Gershwin later on) from one end of New York City to the other and animatedly tapping out popular jazz tunes to himself on the steering wheel.

At that exact instant, not too far away, at a prestigious movie theater called the Capitol, projectionist Jin Akanishi could not keep his eyes open any more, after having spent all night smoking and philosophizing about the future of entertainment with a friend. The reel kept spinning for a good three minutes without Jin noticing.

Walking along Fifth Avenue, Shigeru Joshima suddenly felt an urge to flee the exhaust fumes and noise and climb the stairs up to the heavy door and quiet halls of the New York Public Library. He wasn’t interested in any of the books there but in the echoing of his steps on the cool stone floors, which never failed to calm his nerves (still frayed and brittle from the sounds of machine gun fire and trench mortars some years earlier).

At the same time, Shota Yasuda was sitting in his small apartment in the Flatiron District after a long day at work, writing a letter. In it, he told his mother back in Europe of the prim and proper New York girl he had met the other day and whom he was planning to propose to once he had enough money from his job as a construction worker at the Fischel Building.

It was also the exact moment Jun Matsumoto’s eyes met his mystery man’s for the first time through the slow and hazy clouds of cigarette smoke at the Rainbow Club, a small but popular speakeasy not too far from Times Square.

The two men’s lives did by no means begin there, but it can be said they became inherently richer, as if the languid atmosphere served as a carrier medium for the spark travelling between them and binding them together. Neither had come to the place with the intention of meeting, let alone finding, each other.

 

* * *

**_~::||^||_~:: O N E**

The old razzle-dazzle, that’s what they called it. Right? Toma had been part of this business long enough to know how things were spun. Sure, he had started out as a waiter and still waited tables part-time. But he knew the business. He knew how Nino was running this little speakeasy of his, one of the most successful joints in the neighborhood.

His little hands in every pie that he deemed lucrative, Kazunari Ninomiya – or Nino for short – had built up the Rainbow Club from a mixture of hard work and just the right connections. Toma knew his boss was entertaining some of the most dangerous crime bosses in the city from time to time, just like he was dealing with the city’s highest officials. Keeping one’s options open, he called it. Booze, gambling and a good show, that’s what he was all about. And that’s what the New York City big shots couldn’t stay away from, either.

It had to be stated in Nino’s favor that, unlike for example Kamenashi’s joint up the street, he had a strict hands-off policy on his other goods, including his staff. Customers were encouraged to look, but they weren’t able to touch. Nino always said good looks made for a great incentive, but prostitution hadn’t been outlawed by Prohibition, so alcohol was where one made the good money. Whether the guy had a heart hidden somewhere under all the snark or he just didn’t want the added complications of a whorehouse was still up for debate.

Well, at least the little cheapskate knew talent and how to milk it properly. Momo, Peach Princess of the Rainbow Club, was on top of the game, not least of all thanks to their little ferret of a boss.

Long, shapely legs made even longer by glittery high-heels and fishnet stockings were moving enticingly to music at eye level of the club’s patrons. The slim hips adorned by a sequined garter belt and flowing Moulin Rouge-style skirt-back were showing off the curves of some fine piece of ass (Toma knew all the secrets about that, but he had been part of this business long enough).

The tight corset above was just as sparkly, with sequins and lace accentuating a slim waist and full, round breasts (Toma knew all about their secrets, too). A fluffy feather boa around the shoulders made them narrow and one could see just enough perfectly smooth porcelain-colored cleavage so that even the choker around the neck seemed to promise more than it was hiding. At the same time, the long chains of necklace just vanished in the soft depths between the perfectly-shaped breasts.

Lush dark curls hardly tamed by a glittery hairpiece were bobbing with every move and turn, framing a round doll face. The make-up was heavy; dark red lips and smoky eyes with long, sparkly lashes.

The boyish figure the flappers were holding in such high regards had no place here – it was all about luscious femininity. It was showing ample flesh while shrouding the sexy dancer in just enough mystery to make every guy’s dirtiest fantasies come alive.

The illusion was perfect. Momo was the star of the show, hips tantalizingly teasing and suggesting to a slow, provocative jazz opening. The smoky haze of a hundred or so cigarettes and high-quality bootleg always lent that extra air of surrealism to the show.

And surreal it was – a trompe-l’oeil; for Momo, Nino’s little peach, as the big cheese around here liked to jest when he was drunk, may well have been the finest little piece of ass in this joint – but was just as much of a man as Toma was himself. It should read “Ceci n’est pas une fille’” somewhere, just to stop guests from falling for all the padding and good make-up.

Most of their regulars knew and most new faces found out soon enough, though. It was a specialty of the club; what made them stand apart from all the usual juice joints. Stroke of genius or madness, sometimes Toma wasn’t too sure. He just knew he didn’t want to be anywhere else in the world in this day and age.

Also, he got to go on stage with Momo – or Jun, as was the fella’s real name. Of course with a name like that, he had to have a more cutesy yet glamorous stage name. It was part of the game, wasn’t it? Okay, maybe it wasn’t your typical stage name, but Nino hardly ever cared about convention.

Toma had a stage name, too; his was Jam. He had chosen it himself and found it befitting him, no matter how much some people would keep telling him it wasn’t a good pseudonym.

He wasn’t half as flexible and gracious as Jun was. He was handsomer, no question, as he liked to poke fun at his colleague, but he was more than content to leave the head bitch stuff to Jun, who looked better in a dress.

Seeing the man from the side of the stage like this, watching the utter concentration in his eyes and perfect grace in his whole body, the enraptured looks on some of the customers’ faces not yet a drool just because they were in public, their eyes following Jun’s every small move, Toma couldn’t help but marvel at the glamour and sensuous extravagance. Momo was the uncontested star of the show.

It was almost time for his cue, when he went up to Jun sitting at the edge of the stage, legs crossed and dangling, help him get up all raunchy kinda-sorta lady-like. Toma was wearing heaps of make-up, too. On his head, there was a blonde wig, done up in a sophisticated Greek style, and he had put on a flowing creamy white dress. It was simple and innocent and supposed to counterpoint Momo’s style.

Like any good duo, they were playing off each other – somehow it had been the natural flow of things after Nino had had enough of Jun crashing with him and so had decided for him to become Toma’s new roommate. After initial protests, the two of them had developed a certain routine, and their boss had been thrilled that he got another showgirl for the price of half a wait staff.

So Toma was giving Jun as well as their audience his best feminine saunter in sync to the music, only to feel the cool sequins and warm body pressed against his back seconds after. Momo and Jam were moving together and against each other, touching here and there, hips swaying. There was a lot of wolf-whistling when Jam was pushed to “her” knees…

When he suddenly realized that Jun had missed a beat, even if he was quick enough in covering up the little slip-up so that they could be sure no one but Toma had noticed. The whistling continued, but the minute deviation from their routine did make him pay extra attention.

Without as much as a hitch in the flowing, graceful dancing, there was still something different. Something was… off. He noticed Jun’s eyes going to one table in particular, again and again. It was in the far right corner and Nino was sitting there, together with someone Toma hadn’t seen around the club before. The man was maybe about their own age, with broad but handsome features and slicked-back reddish-brown hair. He was tall, maybe a bit on the lanky side, and wearing an inexpensive-looking checkered suit that looked more comfortable than sharp. The man may have been listening to Nino, but the enchanted twinkle in his dark eyes and the handsome smile on his face were definitely due to Jun on stage.

Over and over, Toma noticed his partner’s eyes drifting in search for the stranger. Was it possible they knew each other? Was this mystery man part of Jun’s past? Toma didn’t know many of the details, but had been his roommate long enough to know about Jun’s time in London, the enthusiasm with which he would always speak about his studies there, as well as the difficulty to talk about how he had been chased and beaten as a draft dodger in the Great War until he had returned to his hometown of New York.

Maybe the stranger was one of Jun’s tormentors. But no, Toma couldn’t make out any kind of despise or panic in his friend’s eyes.

Rather, lighting up from inside. Rather goofy. Like Jun was just about ready to crush on the fella.

This realization hit Toma unexpectedly, and there was a slight stab of jealousy piercing his heart. What was special about this man? And as much as he knew better, he was wondering why HE had never been looked at like that. Not by Jun ever – nor any of the people he had dated so far.

At the very next moment, though, there was worry welling up in him. Worry for his friend and roommate, who may be head bitch on this little stage, but was also a very emotional and sensitive person off it, Toma knew.

He didn’t get any further in his train of thought as he could feel Jun’s fingers writing a “Concentrate,” on his back, leaving him in unexpected goosebumps.

 

* * *

**_~::||^||_~:: T W O**

So what did he know about Jun Matsumoto, his roommate and good friend?

“I’m so through with all of this bull! Honestly, what am I still doing here? I need to get out and get a REAL job soon.”

Oh, yeah, he could grumble quite well over his current life situation – by now, Toma knew his lamentations by heart. Sometimes, when he felt like it, he would just talk back to Jun, use his own words, pull his leg a little.

“I mean, I even went to London to study theater. I’m an actor, not some cabaret doll to get off on.”

It made Toma chuckle how Jun was very meticulously taking off and stowing away first the jewelry, then the dark wig and padding, despite the bitterness in his voice. His slender hands were handling the accessories almost lovingly, telling much more than his still painted lips.

As haughty and aloof as his roommate sometimes came across, it was mostly a front. Jun didn’t want to get hurt – but seriously, who did? Toma had learned over the time he had known his friend now that Jun had probably gotten hurt just one time too many. So for all the beefing on his line of work, he knew “Momo” was truly grateful for the job and the roof over his head, and maybe he was also a little proud of his convincing performance and the attention he got for it.

Although Jun would probably rather die than admit to that. It had only when they had both been completely and utterly zozzled that he had confided in Toma. And not been able to remember the next day – that was the kind of drunk Jun was.

“Did you audition for Broadway lately?” Toma said good-naturedly while he was peeling off the stupid fake lashes. Ow, it still always hurt. “I mean, come on, I came here when any kind of giggle water was prohibited at home. And now I’m here…”

“…And it’s legal to get spifflicated in Good Ol’ Canada, but illegal here. Yeah, I know,” Jun was nodding, if a bit crookedly because he was removing the thick layers of make-up. Underneath all the paint and powder and kohl and lipstick, there was a very normal if handsome man, with strong features, thick eyebrows, expressive eyes, scars from acne back in his youth and a broad if always guarded smile.

“Exactly,” Toma pointed his blonde wig at Jun, talking not just with his mouth but also his hands, the fake hair swooshing through the air. “I’m lucky to be working here. I can still drink myself into oblivion if I want to, and I had loads of bosses a lot worse than Nino.”

Still busy uncaking his face, Jun caught his eye through the mirror. “Speaking of which – did you see where he went after the show?” The light in the tiny changing room was dim enough to play tricks on his vision, but was that a note of hope in his friend’s eyes? He couldn’t be sure.

“You mean with that other fella?”

Jun stiffened in pulling off the get-up, and Toma had to stifle a grin when he continued, “Guess the secret room to talk shop without unwanted ears listening in. The usual business, I’d assume.” With a shrug, he turned to get all the make-up off himself as soon as possible. Nino and their mystery man had gotten up before all the wolf-whistling and applause for Momo and Jam had ebbed off, vanishing into more shadowy parts of the club.

“So we better not bother to tell him we’re off for tonight, then.” Jun was already buttoning his street clothes – a simple but clean pair of pants, a shirt and vest –, then putting his glasses back on his nose and his newsboy cap on his head, ready to call it a night and head out. “You ready?”

Had he not known this was the exact same person as the ensnaring dancer up on stage earlier, he wouldn’t have made the connection. Even Jun’s body language was different; less of the languid, self-assured saunter, and more of a measured but less deliberate bustle. As soon as he was finished and ready to go, he crossed his arms in front of his chest, leaning back against the tiny dressing table.

Toma knew the same thing probably went for him, but one never noticed about oneself, right? He was himself, no matter what. And anyway, he hadn’t even finished getting the thick layers of make-up off his face; he had been too busy watching his friend’s reactions. “You’d drag me outside like this?” he chuckled and gestured to the dress and heels he was still wearing.

“Not exactly flapper material, but you could be my ugly girlfriend.” Jun’s eyes traveled from his toes all the way up his body to his face to underscore his words, despite the mischievous little grin on his full lips.

With a snort, Toma got rid of the last remnants of make-up and took off the dress and padding. “Check. You know you make a much cuter girl, so you could put on that frock again and I could be your handsome sheik.” He reached for his shirt to put it on.

“Says you!” Jun shot back, and added, a little more subdued, “Let’s get going already.”

As soon as he had put on his denim jeans and shoes, Toma went over to him, knowing fully well that he was invading Jun’s personal space by stopping only once their bodies were almost touching. His sole answer to the glower he got from his friend though was a disarming smile. “I’m ready.”

Still a little huffily, he got a, “Do you have to wear those coarse work things? You do know you’re in the big city now, do you?” He could see Jun’s fingers hovering at his sides, twitching slightly, probably wanting to rid Toma of what his friend considered a fashion faux-pas extraordinaire. As little money as Jun made, he was always trying to stay up-to-date on the latest trends, even if he couldn’t afford them.

It wasn’t the first time Toma was reprimanded like this – and it sure as hell wouldn’t be the last. This was more of a constant point of playful bickering between them, which only made him want to wear his beloved Levi’s even more. “Don’t be such an old fart. I’m not gonna put on that Jane get-up a minute longer than I have to, same as you. This is a fashion statement. And I like my denims a lot. They’re not the swankiest, but they’re sturdy and durable and comfy. It’s not like most people couldn’t pick out my accent anyway. So why not wear what I like, eh?” He gave Jun a wink.

In Toma’s opinion, Jun still needed to loosen up, and badly so. As much as his smiles had become more natural and frequent over time, often he still gave off the impression of a spring wound up a little too tightly, or a caged animal of sorts. Not everyone could be as open as Toma, and he knew he could talk a lot, and fast at that. But his friend internalized more than was healthy. There was a whole world going on in Jun’s head and he was only letting out politically correct glimpses of it.

Even though they had known each other for quite a while now, were sharing a tiny apartment down south of Houston Street, which Jun kept ridiculously clean despite the run-down place and rustic furniture, and though he knew a lot about Jun and Jun knew practically everything about him, there were things he wasn’t ready to talk about. Yet, at least.

“What about me? I’ll be associated with your bad fashion sense,” Jun didn’t seem to be able to keep a straight face any more in the face of Toma’s exuberant positivity. Or so Toma liked to tell himself.

He took Jun’s hands in his and pulled him into an upright position to finally leave for home. It would be light out again soon, and he planned to be fast asleep by sunrise. “Well, what about you? Want me to walk a few yards in front of you or behind you so there’s no associating? I will keep talking to you though, mind you. Or… would you rather be associated with the checkered suit probably setting up an elaborate rum-running plot with Nino right now?”

The soft chuckle from his friend changed to a bit of a stutter. “Anything better than your jeans screaming West-coast logging backwater.”

“So who is he?”

“Who?” A frown was building on Jun’s face as the chuckle subsided.

“Your mystery man. I caught you staring at him during the show. Who is he?” Toma wouldn’t be deterred so easily.

Even if he would never have guessed at the deep blush on Jun’s cheeks that was his reaction to the question. Whether it was from embarrassment at being caught or the first signs of a real crush, he could only theorize about.

“I don’t know,” Jun admitted, his hands still resting in Toma’s. Suddenly, his roommate’s gaze met his head on. “Why? Are you jealous?”

For just a second, Toma hesitated. His first thought had been of jealousy, back up on stage. But confronted like this now, that was the last feeling on his mind. Jun’s eyes holding his were large, and even though his words had been forceful, a deep-rooted insecurity was clearly showing in them.

Even though he was younger, Toma had been with the Rainbow Club longer than Jun. He knew the kinds of people Nino usually dealt with – corrupt, criminal, self-serving. So he found it only natural that a fierce desire to keep his friend out of harm’s way, to protect him, was kindled within him.

For maybe the first time Toma didn’t immediately speak his mind. “Let’s get ourselves a good buzz going and head home.”

 

* * *

**_~::||^||_~:: T H R E E**

Rainy days in May were a rather messy affair in New York City. While it wasn’t cold anymore, the air quickly turned heavy with moisture, exhaust hanging low, and the washed-out soot of a whole city hustling and bustling on while others slept became visible. The shadows of technical wonders towering over urban canyons grew just that unpleasant bit deeper, lights only dimly reflected by brass linings or signs. The echoes of the downpour were channeled and drowning out all the other sounds.

Their jackets drawn over their heads, Jun and Toma left the cozy warmth of the movie theater and the Buster Keaton picture behind and instantly broke into a run, making their way along the street. They sprinted from marquee to awning to any kind of doorway in which they could take a break from getting soaked.

Panting slightly, they smiled at each other that they had made it this far. They were still bedazzled from the movie they had watched.

Toma liked going to the movies with Jun. It was almost like theater, only a little cheaper. And worth every hard-earned penny they spent on it, showing them worlds of wonder and adventure, with beautiful women and shining heroes. Could anyone ever grow jaded of the dreams that came out of Hollywood?

It definitely beat running through the dirty Manhattan rain, he found as he was patting down his pockets for a smoke. Toma was used to rain, had grown up with it, but New York was a city he liked a lot better in any other kind of weather.

They had just stopped under a small café’s awning, the lazy afternoon atmosphere from within – the smells of strong coffee and even stronger tobacco drifting towards them -- when someone pushed open the door to leave and venture out into the downpour. Almost automatically, Toma huddled closer to Jun before he longingly looked inside through the large glass window – and stilled in surprise.

“Hey, isn’t that your mystery man in there?” he pointed at the man sitting at one of the tables, a cup of coffee and a notebook in front of him.

Jun turned instantly. “What? Where?”

“Right there,” he pointed again.

And could see Jun hesitate. “I don’t know. Maybe. So what?” His friend was trying to act casual, nonchalant, but Toma had known Jun for long enough to see right through him.

“So, let’s go in and talk to him.”

“It’s getting late. I’m sure Yamashita’ll hate you for leaving him hanging like that.” Jun was already drawing up his jacket again to continue on their way, but Toma didn’t budge from where he was standing close to the door. Like so often these days, Jun’s eyes were giving him away – they were wandering over to the table on the other side of the glass front almost of their own accord.

It had been a couple days since they had first seen the fella at the club, and Jun’s eyes had scanned the crowd at each of their shows afterwards. Searching for him, Toma knew, for his mystery man he hadn’t even spoken a single word with. In vain – the guy hadn’t been to the Rainbow Club since that one time.

So he considered them all the luckier to cross paths with him here and now. This time, he wasn’t wearing any kind of suit but a simple pair of grey pants and a green-striped shirt.

“So let him hate me. Pi’s a capable guy; he’ll manage. Come on!” Before Jun could even as much as protest, Toma was already grabbing him by the arm of his jacket and pulling him into the café with him, making a bee-line for the man’s table.

“Hi,” he smiled at the stranger as a way of greeting, and when Jun’s mystery man looked up, he immediately continued, “Mind if we sit here? Sorry, we’re not disturbing anything, are we? Hey, weren’t you at the Rainbow Club the other night?”

Before he got an answer, Toma made sure he was already sitting down, ignoring the murderous glare he was getting from his friend.

“Um,” the stranger finally seemed to recover from the sneaky maneuver. “Sure, sit down. I’m almost finished anyway.” He was already looking around to flag down a waitress to bring the check.

Toma, though, quickly put a hand on his arm appeasingly. “No no no, don’t worry. Stay. Please. It’s raining pitchforks, like it’s the end of the world outside anyway. Sorry we just ambushed you like this.” On second glance, it did help that a lot of people had taken refuge from the rain in here and so practically all of the tables were taken and he couldn’t just chase them off to a free one.

The fella still looked a little skeptical, especially since Jun still hadn’t sat down. His eyes traveled from the silent man in glasses and newsboy cap to a smiling Toma. “Don’t worry about that,” he eventually smiled back. At that very moment, Toma did get an idea of what Jun might find so attractive about the stranger. His face was lighting up, all open and honest, his whole demeanor was. “Please, sit down.”

At that, Jun did sit down, even if it was rather hesitantly, taking off his jacket and cap and running a hand through his damp hair.

They ordered coffee and Toma was actually waiting for his friend to jump at the chance and strike up a conversation with his mystery man now that he was practically stuck with him. To find out if he was a shady crook or the honest and open man he seemed to be. But nothing came. Jun was just sitting there, seemingly avoiding looking at the fella.

So Toma decided to play for time. He got out his smokes and offered them up to the other two men, who gladly both helped themselves to a cigarette. Then he lit up one as well, inhaling deeply – but it was their mystery man who spoke first.

“You two are from around here?” His eyes mostly rested on Toma, as Jun was still pointedly avoiding his gaze.

Under the table, out of view, Toma kicked his friend’s shin, trying to nudge him to say something, but only got another pointed look and a kick in return.

“Well, Jun here’s New York born and raised, but I’m originally from Canada,” he answered the stranger’s question helpfully. “Why’d you ask?”

“Canada, wow, swell. I heard they just switched up the roads in Vancouver a few months ago… Cars are many-splendored things…” Toma nodded, when the smile on their mystery man’s features turned a little sheepish. “Anyway, I’m asking because I have to admit I keep getting lost in this big city. I also only found this café by chance the other day. They do have very good java here, though. And you should definitely try the sandwiches.”

“You’re making me hungry. Anyway, I’m sure Jun can show you around sometime. Well, sometime with less rain, at least,” Toma tried to subtly steer the other man’s attention toward his friend, watching his every reaction.

Jun looked just about ready to strangle him – but he would thank him soon enough, he was sure. “I can’t. I have work to do and auditions to go to.”

“Jun, right?” The stranger now addressed his friend directly, “Auditions? What do you do?”

The caught, almost deer-in-the-headlights expression in his eyes would have been comical in any other situation. Maybe it was more than just a bit embarrassing to tell a complete and utter stranger that what you did for a living was to dress up as a sexy showgirl and dance suggestively on stage. He might misinterpret, no matter how much he may have liked the show.

“I… I’m an actor, but I haven’t made it to Broadway YET,” his roommate eventually answered, looking up. It only took a few seconds before there was that light in his eyes again, his gaze longing whenever his crush’s attention wasn’t resting on him. When their eyes did meet, though, Jun visibly closed up again despite the adoring looks, the rest of his face perfectly stoic even as he was polite and giving more than one-word answers.

The stranger smiled at him enigmatically. “I’m sure you’ll make it to Broadway soon. You seem pretty determined.”

“Well, I am, but… thank you.” A slight blush was settling on his cheeks.

“I mean it,” the fella nodded emphatically. “So what are the shows you’d recommend I watch? You’re the professional, after all.”

Toma beat Jun to an answer. “There’s this club not too far from here putting on a good show. It’s not Broadway, but, well… The Rainbow Club?” He knew Jun was going to kill him for the very obvious jab, but he just couldn’t stop himself.

The man across from him didn’t seem to mind. “Yeah, I know it.”

“Right. I saw you there the other night, like I said,” he agreed with a smile. “I wait tables there part-time. So how did you like the show?”

“Honestly? The bee’s knees of my stay so far. Momo’s… wow. Dazzling. What a doll. Definitely got IT, you know. Aura. And a nice body to boot. Wouldn’t take me the bat of an eye to think about the question cash or check. Even though I know it’s a guy underneath all that – at least if Nino wasn’t pulling my leg. Hard to believe… So maybe… it would. But hey, we’re all open-minded here, right?” His smile was soft, definitely not judging – which was what Toma had wanted to get at, even if his methods were crude.

“Um, right.” To Toma’s surprise, it was Jun who answered first, finding his way into the conversation, even if his tone was somewhat undecided – somewhere in between skeptical and positively curious. “So what brings you to New York City, then?”

The man seemed to be biding his time, stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray and signaling to the waitress for another round of coffee. At least he didn’t seem to want to leave anymore, but just find the right words to talk about his shady business. “Actually, I’m here to get my travel writing published somehow. I’ve met so many swell people and I’d be sad to see my promise to tell everyone back home about them broken.”

That was unexpected. And a sideways glance to his friend, who was sitting there with his mouth half open, told him that Jun had been realistic enough to think the worst of the man’s ties to Nino’s business dealings as well. True, their mystery man could be flat out lying to them, but he just didn’t seem capable of such an unnecessary lie. He could have told them he was here on business, or that he was meeting friends or whatever.

Again, it was Jun who beat Toma to the punch. “You’ll find a publisher,” he stated flat out.

“You haven’t read my stuff, so…”

“A promise is a promise.” There was an unexpected fierceness about his words. “If you don’t plan on keeping it and just making up excuses, then you shouldn’t make any promises.”

The stranger did seem a bit taken aback by Jun’s tone, too. He blinked at him, puzzled, but didn’t say anything. Instead, Toma could see his eyes wander from Jun’s full lips, from the row of birthmarks right underneath and above them, to his eyes.

Before there was any reply, though, his roommate seemed to realize what he had just said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry,” his tone grew softer again. “Or to offend you in any way. It’s not my place to tell a complete stranger off. Sorry again… So you travel a lot?” At the last part, his eyes lit up with curiosity.

“No offense taken.” His mystery man’s features softened at the look Jun was giving him. “And yeah, I’ve done a lot of traveling and met a lot of interesting people. And I’m sure I’ll find someone who thinks their stories interesting enough to print them. Like that one girl from Thailand…”

Admittedly, as soon as the stranger started telling of his travels, Toma was more or less confined to the role of observer – and he was feeling a bit like the odd man out, only watching those two bonding over seeing the world. At least Jun had been to Europe. Well, Toma had made it here, to New York City, all the way from Canada, which wasn’t all that shabby, either. It wasn’t his fault he was comfortable where he was.

So he instead concentrated on the two men’s faces. And it was fun watching those two, he found, a lot more captivating than the names of places and people he had never seen.

Jun, though, was practically hanging onto his mystery man’s lips, soaking up all the information he could get – about the fella himself as well as about the exotic places he had been to.

The man, on the other hand, seemed oblivious of Jun’s growing admiration and just very much into his experiences from around the globe. He seemed a genuinely nice fella, helpful even though not always lawfully so. He also told them openly about his rum-running time and about having met the real McCoy once, talking excitedly with his hands and feet.

The more they talked, the more complicated Toma’s feelings toward the whole situation got. He still wanted to protect Jun from any harm, but seeing him like this was fairly new to him, too.

It wasn’t like his roommate had loosened up as much as he was easing into the situation, asking questions and smiling a bit more freely. He discovered that he was growing jealous of the stranger sitting across from him, just for being able to get Jun to relax as much in a matter of hours where it had taken Toma weeks.

At the base of all of this, though, there was still the fear of his friend getting hurt. The man seemed to be – or to have been – a bell bottom, a sailor. With work like that, he most probably wouldn’t stay in the city, no matter how amiable and friendly he might be. Which wasn’t even saying he liked men – according to law, no one but women should like men. Toma couldn’t care less about gender, but he knew there were more than enough people out there who made it their priority to “uphold morality” – the kind of people who had brought them baloney like Prohibition. So what kind of man was the one sitting across the table from them and telling them about foreign adventures?

Toma was still trying to read between the lines, when he suddenly noticed it getting dark outside. “I hate to interrupt, but it’s getting late and I need to get to work before my boss has my hide for it.” He got a few coins out of his pockets and put them on the table. It was high time; they would have to run and get utterly drenched in the process.

Jun looked reluctant, but eventually nodded. “I’m afraid I’ll have to get going as well.” He seemed to want to add something to the third man, but kept it to himself, already getting up hurriedly and searching for his wallet.

“It was nice meeting the both of you. I’ll stay just a bit longer, until the rain’s easing up,” the other man smiled optimistically.

“Good luck with that,” Toma blurted with a laugh and got up to leave.

Jun lingered for just a second more. “If you do need someone to show you around the city, I probably won’t have auditions every day, so…” He hesitated.

“I may take you up on that offer,” he got a nod and a beaming smile.

“Please do. I’ll… see you around. It was nice talking to you.”

And with that, they left the café, pulling their jackets tightly around them, their hats drawn far into their faces, and running along deserted sidewalks. It was high time they got to the club and ready for the evening.

“You’re late,” was the only greeting they got from Nino when they hurried to get changed into their work clothes.

Closing the door to the tiny dressing room behind them, Jun suddenly stilled, looking crestfallen. “I didn’t even ask him for his name,” he mumbled.

“Well,” Toma shrugged, “you didn’t exactly tell him where to find you either. And it’s not like we haven’t been calling him anything other than your mystery man anyway.” Maybe that was a good sign; Jun wasn’t completely head over heels and goofy. If it was meant to be that the fella found them anyway, then be it so.

 

* * *

**_~::||^||_~:: F O U R**

“He’s here!”

Toma could feel Jun’s breath hitch yet again and his heart go into overdrive even from where he was pressed up against his back to peek through the drawn curtains into the club.

Of course he didn’t need to ask, who “he” was. He had seen their mystery man the second he had entered the Rainbow Club and sat down as close to the stage as possible. Toma had been waiting another table, but had greeted the fella with a smile and a nod. Jun had been backstage at that time already, getting ready for the show. His friend had probably noticed the man sitting and watching him up on stage, even though their number had gone better than perfect and without the slightest hitch.

But now that the show was over, they were just standing there, watching as the club was slowly emptying yet their mystery man was still sitting at his table, drinking and smoking. Was he waiting for something? Or someone? Was he here for Jun? It was possible, since the Rainbow Club was the only place he knew at least one of them could be found, although Toma didn’t want to get his friend’s hopes up.

“Toma, what am I supposed to do? He’s here…” Jun’s eyes were pleading; he had never before seen him balled up like that. “I can’t just go talk to him like this, can I?”

For an instant, Toma’s heart felt like it was being squeezed and he considered just pushing his friend back out onto the stage, but knew he wouldn’t be forgiven if he really did that. So instead, his arms went around the padded feminine hips to steer his friend back to the small dressing room. “Then don’t. Go to the café again and talk to him dressed like yourself. You don’t have to tell him about this.”

“But…” Jun let himself be shepherded back, until he suddenly turned in Toma’s arms, a fire in his eyes and his painted lips in an un-ladylike smirk. “I have an idea.”

With a sudden kiss, he wriggled himself free and went to the cute cigarette girl just a few paces from the stage entrance to whisper with her conspiratorially. Toma couldn’t hear what was said but saw their eyes going to the stranger again and again. What had gotten into his friend?!

After a minute, Jun came sauntering back toward him to finally leave for their dressing room – or rather, Momo did, for Toma had never seen the swaying hips and self-assured way Jun was carrying himself right now off stage. “Let’s get a wiggle on.”

All he could do was follow, still a little confused, and close the door to their dressing room behind him. “Okay, what’s your plan?”

Jun had sat down in front of his mirror, smiling at Toma through it. It wasn’t half as confident as it had been just a minute ago, but it was determined. “He sounded pretty impressed with Momo, didn’t he? So that’s what he’s getting.”

“You sure about this?”

“No. But it’s too late to not do it. I told Maki to give the fella a message. He’ll be here any minute now.” Jun’s hands were positively shaking as he was fussing with the wig.

If Toma was honest, this sounded like the worst idea ever. What were stage names, wigs, the get-up, all of that for when you couldn’t hide behind them anymore, when you took away all the mystical aura and glamour? What if the guy sold them out? He hadn’t seemed the type, but what if? They would be stigmatized as perverse, faggots, whatever. They probably wouldn’t be able to find any kind of half-decent work in New York again if people knew who they were. He felt panic well up inside him. Jun was seriously going for broke this time! “Why? Why the hell are you even doing this?” Was he so blinded by foolish love? Or did he think he needed to prove himself something?

But before Toma got an answer, there was a soft knock on the door and Jun got up, striding over and opening the door.

Sure enough, there was their mystery man standing before them, a sheepish little smile on his lips and his fingers playing nervously with the fedora in his hands. “Ladies… or… I… I was told you wanted to see me?”

Toma watched Jun’s adam’s apple dance underneath the choker as he swallowed hard, before he fell back into his role, a sultry drawl in his voice that was probably how he imagined Momo’s voice. It wasn’t Jun, it was the Rainbow Club’s peach princess – and that somehow seemed a little wrong to him, even if he didn’t interfere yet.

“I’ve been wanting to see you all right. Come in and lock the door behind you,” Momo ordered, hands in hips – and the man obeyed, to Toma’s utter bafflement.

As he stepped forward, away from the door and towards them, his dark eyes seemed to study the dancer in front of him curiously. “So… What did you wanna see me about? I mean, do I know you? I mean, you look like quite the doll to me – so is it true you’re a fella?”

Momo’s chuckle was guttural and husky, despite Jun’s fingers still trembling at his sides. Toma also thought he could see his pulse going a mile a minute, the artery on the side of his neck throbbing underneath the choker. “Why don’t you come here and find out yourself?”

The man actually had the decency to blush as he smiled shaking his head. “I… really shouldn’t. I don’t wanna break that spell. I’m sorry.” The last bit wasn’t much more than a whisper.

He seemed ready to leave, but – despite his words – unable to move, his eyes following Momo’s every little move, as nimble fingers went to the back of “her” neck and took off first the long pearl necklaces, then the choker to lay the accessories on the small dressing table. The earrings followed.

Before long, Toma knew, Jun would break the spell for the stranger. This was bad… “Why don’t you leave, then?” he tried his best Jam voice. He didn’t want to give himself away, as little as he trusted their current situation. Nino would have their heads for it, all three of them; there was a reason for his “no touching” rule.

“I know I should go…” their mystery man agreed.

“But?” Momo’s eyebrows were raised in question.

He grinned crookedly at that. “I’d miss the best part, as much as I know it’s wrong.”

Toma couldn’t help rolling his eyes, while Momo took a step towards the man, meeting his gaze in a challenge. “So tell me, baby, do you like looking at me?”

He nodded, the blush deepening in spite of his smile.

“Would you like to touch me?”

Another nod.

“Even if I’m not a girl?”

Toma caught himself holding his breath.

Until the man nodded again, if a little slower.

“What’s your name?”

“I’d rather…”

“Oh no,” Toma was surprised by his own fierceness at that very moment. “If we get to share something, you’ll need to give us something in return. Give and take, Mister…?”

“Aiba. Masaki Aiba,” he eventually gave, sparking a broad smile on Momo’s lips.

“Mister Masaki Aiba,” it seemed his roommate wanted to taste the sounds of the man’s name, syllable by syllable. “Well… Masaki, then. You can call me Momo for the moment. And that’s Jam.”

Toma was a bit sad it had been so easy to get the fella’s name in the end. But he was pleased to finally be able to have a name that went with the handsome face. And he was even more pleased that Jun still had enough sense in him to not give them away.

“Do you want to see me undress Jam?”

What?!

The fella – Masaki – had the gall to nod again.

“Or do you rather want to see Jam undress me?” Toma had the uncanny feeling Jun was getting a little – or rather a lot – carried away with his role.

Yet another, enthusiastic, nod from Aiba.

Toma was still busy processing what was happening, when there was suddenly Momo, flush up against him, lips ghosting along the side of his face and making him shiver – in a good way.

“Do it for me, Toma, please. Slowly. Let’s see if he’s serious,” he could hear Momo whisper in his ear, warm breath against sensitive skin.

He sighed quietly, nodding. What other choice did he have anyway? He had always been bad at saying no to Jun. At least they finally knew the man’s name – and it hadn’t sounded like some fabricated name; they could somehow find him should he plan to double-cross them. It wouldn’t spare Jun the hurt if he did, but Toma vowed silently that he would personally hunt Masaki Aiba down.

Momo’s hands closed around Toma’s wrists, raising his hands and laying them demonstratively onto his fake breasts to signal he should do as announced to the stranger still standing in their tiny dressing room and slowly start undressing him, peeling off layer after layer of disguise.

Toma’s heart was hammering in his chest as he found his hands free again and pulled off the opulent feather boa to reveal shoulders broader than probably expected. Tossing it aside, his fingers started stroking the round breasts, kneading them slightly. There was a soft moan and gasp from Momo, giving him goosebumps, as much as he knew it was all just an act.

Then he went to work on the hooks and eyes of the tight corset. By now, his fingers were trembling probably just as much as Jun’s were.

It wasn’t the first time he was this close to Jun, undressing him, touching him. God knew there had been several times both of them had felt like the loneliest people on Earth. In the early morning hours, they had sought comfort, friendship, acceptance in each other’s arms.

He had never done THIS, though. He had never taken off whatever was Momo, the Rainbow Club’s head bitch, piece by piece to eventually reveal the man that was Jun, his roommate and best friend. Most definitely not with someone watching.

Masaki Aiba’s presence was unsettling and curious at the same time. He was just standing there, clutching his fedora to his chest and watching the two of them, his eyes dark and his mouth open and probably dry.

But Toma decided to concentrate on Jun; the only relevant information from the third man was that he hadn’t bailed on them yet. The corset came undone bit by bit, taking with it the artfully crafted breasts and revealing a slim but well-toned torso. Definitely male.

There was a slight hesitation to Momo’s touch when a hand went around Toma’s neck to pull him closer, crushing their dark red lips together. The kiss was fierce, but grew more affectionate the longer it went on. He didn’t know where his friend had learned to kiss like that, but Jun was darn good at it and knew it, too. This fact alone didn’t make it too hard to just relax and enjoy. Toma didn’t want to think about it, but he could only surmise Momo’s eyes were open at least part of the time, holding and challenging Aiba’s.

Soon, he was pulled away by the hand at his nape. By now, Toma’s own hands had come up to Jun’s bare chest, lightly touching and teasing.

It wasn’t long before Momo started rolling “her” hips slowly against Toma’s, grinding and causing friction with the several layers of women’s clothing still between them. He almost forgot Aiba’s presence, until he heard Momo’s husky drawl again.

“You like that, yeah? Good.”

After the corset followed the skirt and garters. The padding removed, Jun’s narrow hips were brought out, just as his erection was clearly visible by now. Male, no doubt about that.

Toma swallowed hard, his hand cupping Jun’s surprisingly plain underpants, grazing along his length before taking a step back to look at the Momo/Jun hybrid he had unearthed, so to speak. The voice, though, was still the role’s, not the man’s.

“Still like what you see?”

It felt a little weird, maybe even creepy, but there was no turning back now.

Masaki didn’t look all too intelligent gaping in fascination at Jun, mouth open and pants painfully obviously tight. He managed a nod, though.

“How about Jam here’s going to undress you, too?”

Toma wanted to protest, but he was at a point where his thought processes weren’t quite fast enough to reach his lips in time.

“I… Yes, why not,” Masaki’s tone was a bit hoarse, his lips curling upwards into a grin.

He expected to be shoved in the direction of the other man, but it didn’t come. Taking off Aiba’s clothes went a bit quicker, less sensuous. Soon enough, the man was standing there buck naked, if only because Toma didn’t want him to catch on to his devilish little plan of hiding the stuff, thus making sure he wouldn’t just up and leave before they allowed him to.

Momo’s eyes had grown dark and large with lust, wandering appreciatively over the man’s body, and Toma watched “her” licking “her” lips. Still, there was a slight nervous edge to the husky tones at Momo’s next words. “I think you know you’re extremely handsome, Masaki.”

It was like an electrical current was passing through the air as their eyes met again, a low hum emanating from deep in Aiba’s throat.

The man took a step towards Momo, his eyes glued hungrily to the almost naked body in front of him. But Momo’s arm was up, hand on his shoulder holding him at a distance, even though fingertips were lightly stroking the large birthmark there, seemingly of their own volition. “Not so fast, baby. Stay where you are,” “she” ordered.

And right as rain, Masaki took a tiny step back, just enough to signal he would do as he was told – at least for now, Toma surmised. He wondered how far Jun would want to go in his Momo act; he watched as “she” strolled around the naked fella, eyes traveling over his whole body from all the different angles.

Eventually, Momo came to a halt right behind Masaki, drawing a fingertip lightly down his back. Toma saw the man shudder at the touch. When their eyes met, it was Jun’s insecurity shining through for a beat, before dark red lips leaned close to Aiba’s ear and whispered huskily, “Jam still needs to be taken care of, don’t you think? Why don’t you return the favor?”

Toma wanted to wave them off, but when Masaki opened his eyes again, there was an odd mixture of lust and determination in them, focused solely on him, on Jam. A little self-consciously, and without him wanting them to, Toma’s hands began smoothing non-existent wrinkles in his flowing dress. His heart was beating fast and loud in his chest and his mouth felt dry.

Masaki WAS a very attractive man and the look he was giving Toma made him feel weak in the knees. Of course he could see why Jun had fallen for this man. It didn’t mean he thought his friend had made the right decision in letting the fella in here, but it might be too late no matter what. Masaki hadn’t run yet, and neither had Jun. Toma never did anyway.

“Thank you for helping me out of my clothes,” the man said, a gentle yet amused smile playing across his features. His voice sounded surprisingly deep and husky.

And with that, he proceeded to “return the favor” as Momo had called it. Slightly trembling fingers undid the clasps that held the Greek-style dress together, making it slide down Toma’s body in a ghostly breath of air. Masaki’s hands felt rough and calloused, a sign of manual labor, but there was a gentle strength in them as they were drawn across Toma’s shoulders to slide off the straps of his elaborate bra.

Out of the corner of his eye, Toma caught Jun licking his lips, and as his gaze was shifting over to his friend for an instant, he noticed that Momo’s lush locks were missing, replaced by Jun’s own unruly mop. He was leaning against his dressing table, watching intently every small move of Masaki’s, still somewhere in between the Peach Princess and himself in posture and appearance.

Toma’s attention was practically whipped back to what was happening when he felt warm lips and hot breath nipping at his collarbone. It took him a second or two to realize that the soft moan had come out of his own mouth.

The almost childishly gleeful smile on his lips when Masaki raised his gaze to meet his again almost made Toma laugh, but brought him back to his senses just a little. “It’s Momo you should be necking,” he whispered.

“I know, and I will. But Momo won’t let me touch yet,” he whispered back conspiratorially. “And you’re beautiful, too. Can I eat you out?”

Probably more like blow him. But hell, by now they were all pretty much acting out whatever play this was. Maybe it wasn’t fair. Maybe it would hurt Jun more than he had planned for in the end, but he had been the one who had started it. Toma would be there to help, but he was no saint. He was here, Jun wanted him here, and so did Masaki, obviously. He wouldn’t pass up on sex, sorry.

And so he smiled back, his hands going to the other man’s ass, kneading the taut and slightly cold skin with confident movements, “Sure thing, gorgeous.”

When Masaki had finally freed Toma’s hips of all the padding and layers of fabric in the way and their erections were brushing against each other, the feeling was more than welcome. Toma had decided to shut off his thought process completely and to just relish the moment. Savor their mystery man’s lusty shiver and his trembling fingers playing over his body.

Their kiss was heated, sloppy, most likely smearing Toma’s lipstick, but he couldn’t care less. It was good, adrenaline and testosterone rushing through his body and blood going south. His hands running through Masaki’s hair, clawing at his scalp.

When he could feel a third presence from behind Masaki. Jun, moaning quietly at the contact of skin on skin. There were slender hands closing around the other man’s length and slowly starting to make pumping motions. Toma could feel them slick with oil against his own crotch, making him gasp slightly in surprise at just how needy he was feeling. It had been too long again and this strangely queer situation did turn him on.

“You seem like quite the cake-eater, Masaki,” Momo cooed close to the man’s ear, but hot breath tickling Toma’s face just as well.

The only answer was a muffled “Umph,” and a light shake of the head, strands of hair tickling against his collarbone. Just a fraction of a second later, he could feel Masaki’s hips moving, bucking against Jun’s hand and Toma’s crotch.

Breathless, a bit strained, a lot less feminine, Jun whispered into the other man’s ear, “So don’t keep the lady waiting. You promised Jam something, didn’t you?” As his eyes met Toma’s, they were shrouded and glazed, yet he thought he could see a wicked little spark of madness in them, having fun with their current charades. A slight sheen of sweat was slowly disintegrating the elaborate make-up.

As much as Toma could feel Masaki wanting to turn around and probably actually touch “Momo”, he remained between the two, slowly sinking to his knees, taking along Jun behind him. Toma’s hands raked through his hair, gently pushing downwards until he could feel Masaki’s breath hot and labored against his sensitive foreskin and had to close his eyes at the rush of lust through his body.

The man was rocking slightly with the force of Jun pushing into him again and again, and the wave-like up and down along with those luscious lips closing around him was almost too much to bear. He could hear Jun pant and gasp and moan as he was moving against Masaki’s back. He could feel Masaki’s skilled tongue lap against his swollen head and his mouth suck at him alternately.

He was teetering at the edge of the abyss, Jun’s deep moans and gasps driving him on, dangerously close to just letting go, to that heavenly, beautiful wave washing over him. Toma was biting his lip, trying not to scream out his release – and did anyway when a hand way too slender and soft to be Masaki’s started playing with his balls.

Toma came loud and intense, laughing and utterly unable to warn anyone in time. He did feel Masaki swallow, though, every last drop he had to give, then watched the man lick his lips, a mirthful smile in his eyes as Toma slowly sank to his knees to watch the other two.

Masaki took Jun’s sweaty palm in his, planting a deceptively chaste kiss on it, then proceeded, slowly, to turn around. Both of them were panting heavily and if Toma knew Jun, from the look in his eyes, he wouldn’t hold up much longer. But it was understandable Masaki would want to see him.

Jun, thought, looked positively shell-shocked all of a sudden, eyes wide and panicky, his whole body stiffening and trying to keep his mystery man from seeing him. If he hadn’t been still too much aglow, riding out the orgasm for what it was worth, Toma would have almost laughed at the ridiculousness of wanting to hide while inside another man.

To no avail, of course. Masaki was taller and stronger, just like the moment was probably too good to think much about pushing the man too far away – Jun’s fingers were almost digging into the other man’s side, knuckles white.

Well, he could still hope he wouldn’t be recognized. There was still enough make-up on his face and his glasses lying well out of sight, in a drawer inside the dressing table behind them. Yet, the self-assured smile and playful attitude were gone completely, and Toma hoped Jun wouldn’t just up and leave, as much as he was holding on to Masaki still.

The only reaction he got, though, was a rather amused, “Oh… it’s you. Jun, right?”

His friend was still shaking, obviously not trusting his own voice. Jun nodded, swallowing hard and his eyes searching Masaki’s face. Toma was wondering what he feared to find there – rejection? Hate? Rage for leading him on like this?

What he apparently didn’t expect was the man to lean forward, head slightly tilted, and kiss him, deep and sensuous. It took Jun a couple of long seconds before he responded in kind, closing his eyes and brushing his lips against Masaki’s, most of the tension falling off of him again.

From the way it looked to Toma, it had to be the absolute bee’s knees, Jun’s hands raking through Masaki’s hair, desperately clinging onto him, just as he was bringing their bodies together again.

At that moment it was more than clear the man wouldn’t just sell them out. Masaki could easily figure out exactly who Jam was, exactly who he had given head to, but he didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he seemed completely focused on Jun, concern and gentleness not present before visible in every one of his movements.

Jun’s lips turned upward in a shy smile that turned Toma’s insides upside down. He knew it was a rare glimpse into that ball of complexes his friend often hid so well.

“I like your smile better than Momo’s. Your birthmarks are just the right kind of imperfection to make you all the more stunning,” Toma could hear Masaki whisper and see his ears burn. It was pretty cheesy.

This time, it was Jun who initiated the kiss. It started out gentle, but soon enough turned more heated – biting, touching, holding each other tight. As Masaki’s eyes roamed the room in search of… something, Jun took the chance to bite and suck at his collarbone, leaving a dark purple lovemark.

Toma swallowed when Masaki’s fingers wandered further down and around Jun’s body, undoubtedly preparing him, scissoring and stretching, if his low grunts and lusty gasps were any indication. They were taking it a little slower than before, more careful, less feral, when Masaki positioned Jun above him. They gently started rocking against each other, seemingly lost in the moment.

Deciding to not just sit there and feel like a voyeuristic ass, Toma slowly moved around them, softly stroking Jun’s back and sharing a knowing smile with Masaki at the colorful curses full of lust and need flowing from his friend’s lips.

When Jun came into the other man’s hands, wet and sticky and with a deep, drawn-out moan, Masaki was still desperately ramming into him, but that seemed the final inch pushing him over the edge. Their breaths and voices mingled, hotly, fervently, deep and sensual.

As Toma held on in those early hours of the new day, so were the other two.

 

* * *

**_~::||^||_~:: F I V E**

Ever since that morning, Masaki would join Toma and Jun after the show. Of course, Jun didn’t mind, and even though Toma still felt this cold weight in his belly that the sailor would just up and leave again one day, he was happy to see his friend laugh more freely again. He didn’t want to take that away from him – and Aiba better not hurt him either.

“…so I thought we could maybe go and watch the new Valentino mov—“

Jun suddenly stilled right in the open doorway to their dressing room, Toma almost walking into him.

“What...?”

From inside the tiny room, he heard the familiar voice of their boss. “Get inside and close the door. Now.” Nino clearly meant business, and it wouldn’t be pretty.

Hurriedly, the two of them closed and locked the door behind them, sharing a worried look but not daring to say or do anything other than wait for whatever was to come.

Nino was sitting in one of the chairs, facing the door, but got up once he could be sure he had their undivided attention. His arms crossed in front of his chest, he threw first Jun, then Toma a warning look. “You really think there’s nobody home or what? That I’m stupid enough not to know what’s going on in my own joint? You really think I don’t see you neck and pet your way all over the place, giggling like a dumb school girl in love?!”

Toma could see Jun practically deflate next to him, could see him wince under the blows, and sought out his friend’s hand with his own to give it a reassuring squeeze.

“I… well, I…”

At that very moment, there was a soft knock at the door – which made all the color drain from Jun’s face and his heavily made-up eyes grow wide in fear.

“Don’t—“

But Nino had already opened the door to roughly pull an unsuspecting Masaki into the small room, making it rather tight and uncomfortable with so many of them inside. There wasn’t any space left to move; shoved back against the dressing tables, they could only watch and wait as Nino was lighting a cigarette and blowing the smoke right into their faces, making the air feel even thicker with tension.

Toma’s palms were sweaty and his heart was racing. He had never seen Nino like this. Not livid; his boss rarely – if ever – lost his head, but despite the missing rage in his eyes, he seemed positively ready to shout them down and send them packing.

“Nino, what’s going on here?” Masaki looked from one to the other, still a bit puzzled.

It started out as a low grumble but grew in volume until it ended in a shout: “You know damn well what’s going on. I can’t believe I let you stay on my couch. Have you even handed in ANY of your manuscript to ANY of the city’s publishers? Or were you too scared of rejection, instead getting my best talent goofy with love and pining for YOU of all people. And it’s probably the least problem that I’ve never seen you a hundred percent sincere about anything. It’s that I can’t have this relationship, and you know it. If you really need to, then go get a room and have fun outside of work, but bring Jun back here with his head straightened right out instead of filled with baloney. There’s a no-touch policy inside my joint and you better fucking stick to it like everybody else!”

At least Masaki had the decency to look guilty at the words thrown in his direction. The man wiggled a little closer to Jun, their bodies almost touching and trying to catch his eye, before he turned back to Nino. “I don’t care,” he almost pouted. “You’re being mean for no reason, and I know I’m currently freeloading and am amazingly grateful to you for that. But…”

“But? Go on.” Nino’s tone was challenging, his smile at his ex-house-guest-to-be didn’t reach his eyes by far, though.

“But…” He hesitated, obviously fishing for a good argument.

Toma sighed. Why was it always him who had to come to Jun’s rescue? Not that he didn’t like doing this. “BUT the show’s never gone smoother than since those two lovebirds have started doing unspeakable things to your dressing room,” he filled in with a venturesome wink. “Momo’s gorgeous and you know it. Jun’s never missed a single show and he’s always hitting on all sixes.”

“Then let me ask you this: For how much longer?” Nino sounded more than skeptical. “What kind of dumb and deaf goof do you take me for? For crying out loud! Ever since Masaki showed up, Jun’s doubled and tripled his efforts to land a part in one of the Broadway shows. Believe me, I’ve known this scoundrel for a while now and I know what kind of stupid ideas and plans there are in his head waiting to be shot down by reality. And I’m saying this as an optimist. I can guess at the kind of baloney he’s infected Jun with. And as if that’s not enough, chances are Masaki’s wanderlust comes knocking again, and you’ll see him leave again for parts unknown. What stays behind will be Jun, a heartbroken mess. So let me ask you: Do you know if he can stand by his words when the time has come?”

“Yes, I can,” Masaki answered firmly, holding Nino’s gaze. “Yes, I’m curious about the world. Yes, my ideas and plans aren’t like everyone else’s. Yes, my lifestyle is a bit unorthodox. But I always try my best to stand by my promises. You at least should know me THAT well. I will find a publisher, even if I sometimes, well, yes, bail… and come here instead… because I’m afraid. Nino, getting this stuff published, getting my soul laid bare and maybe laughed at, is the scariest thing I’ve ever done. Cut me some slack, will you?”

“Wait, what?” Jun turned to his lover, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “You came here instead of your appointments with the publishers you were telling me about?”

Masaki nodded, looking apologetic and utterly guilty.

“Anyway,” Toma cut in again, trying to divert Nino’s attention and give the other two a moment of privacy to sort this thing out – well, as much as that was possible in this cramped space with all four of them here. “So what if Jun decides to leave one day? Or if something else happens to him? There’s plenty of talent here. Take Yamashita, who’s only waiting for a chance to prove himself, and actually seems to like the idea of dolling himself up like a Jane. Momo’s an old hat anyway – no offense. You could develop a completely new concept for the show and the whole drum.” Nino seemed more than doubtful. “All I’m saying is there’s potential for change. You never were too happy about Jun’s attitude, even if his work ethic has always won out.” He tried his best winning smile.

His friend wouldn’t stay with the Rainbow Club forever, he knew, as much as he was part of it at the moment. Jun could be a great actor whenever he forgot his surroundings and became his role instead of acting it out – and overacting in the process. He was destined for Broadway. But it always seemed like something was holding him back, like he was afraid of something. Toma hadn’t been able to pinpoint what that would be yet.

With a huff, Nino went to the door. “Jun’s staying. Get changed to help straighten up the joint for the night.” He slammed the door shut behind him as he left the room.

For a long instant, the three remaining people were just looking at each other.

“Are you out of your minds?!” Jun looked furious, his gaze traveling between Toma and Masaki as he went to get changed as quickly as possible. Now, their star, he could be livid, although he looked mostly upset as he was firing the high-heels and stockings at them.

“You!” He turned to Masaki Aiba, and Toma could make out tears threatening to well up in his eyes. “What kind of ne’er-do-well are you? It’s all hello-goodbye for you? Freeloading on my boss’s couch and not even trying hard? Coming and going as you please… So you’re afraid – guess what, so am I. Of telling people who and what I am and what I do. Of trusting people. I did anyway, trusting you, believing in your bullshit about you knowing I’ll make it and that gorgeous smile of yours! But you… When were you planning on telling me you’re leaving again? It’s clear you won’t stay at Nino’s forever. Or would I have just been stood up somewhere along the line? Would you not have told me at all? Like you didn’t tell me about how you didn’t meet up with those publishers but were feeding me lines instead. Are you even ever being level with me? I don’t like being anybody’s excuse for anything, you know. Hell, and I thought I meant more to you than a handy distraction. But don’t worry, I won’t distract you anymore.”

“I don’t know if I’d’ve told you, and that’s the truth. But you were never just a handy distraction.” Tears were rolling down Masaki’s face. “So can I say something?”

By now there were tears running down Jun’s cheeks freely as well, leaving dark streaks on their way. “Not now! Just go chase yourself, okay?”

“No, Jun, I…”

“Get out!”

He didn’t even wait for the door to close behind Masaki, but turned to face Toma with the same fierce intensity in his eyes. “And you! Thank you, really! Telling Nino about what we’re doing in the dressing room – not! helping! Momo’s an old hat? What’s that supposed to mean? Do you want me out of the club, is that it? I thought you’re my best friend.”

Toma took a step toward him, but Jun at the same moment did take a step backwards. “I AM your best friend,” he tried reassuringly. “We’re roommates. We’ve been through a lot together. Too bad you don’t seem to remember.”

But his friend wouldn’t even look at him and was instead wiping at his face furiously to get off all of the make-up as quickly as possible.

“Look, I said what I said because I don’t wanna pretend I don’t know you’re leaving this club one day for a REAL gig. So yes, I want you out of the club, but not because you’re in the way, but because I know you can do Broadway. Yes, you grumble a lot about the Rainbow Club gig, but I also know you love Nino for the chance he’s given you. Come to think of it, that’s probably why you’re still here…”

“Toma, I’m scared as hell,” Jun finally admitted quietly, all anger vanished into thin air and still wiping at his face. “I’m scared of finding myself alone again.”

Without even thinking about what he was doing, Toma just wrapped his arms tightly around his friend. “You’ll never be alone.”

Finally, Jun’s eyes found Toma’s, a crooked smile on his slightly reddened face. “Coming back from England, unwanted, beaten and with nothing to show for at all, that was scary. You know what Nino said to me as he saw me sitting in a doorway?”

“What?” he asked softly. This was the first time he heard about exactly how Jun had met their boss and ended up staying and working for him.

“That he’d treat me to a strong drink ‘cause I look lonely.” A small grin played across his lips.

“No way! Nino? Treating anyone to anything?”

Jun just nodded. “You should get changed, too. He’ll kick us out for sure if we don’t help with the clean-up for the night.”

Toma let the matter rest and made to change into street clothes so he could follow Jun back into the main area of the smoky speakeasy.

Most of the tables were already wiped down and chairs put up for the night. The exception was one table, where he found Nino grinning at them smugly, a challenging twinkle in his eyes. Next to him was Aiba, still looking guilty and nursing a glass of whiskey. The other two men sitting with them were new faces.

As they came closer, Toma could see that one of them looked a little sleepy already – whether he’d had too much alcohol or just wasn’t used to going to bed this late, he couldn’t quite tell. The man was rather short, with light brown hair, a round face and delicate features. Despite the time of year, he was wearing a dark scarf over his navy blue vest and the sleeves of his light shirt were rolled up. The other man was taller, maybe just a bit shorter than Jun or Toma, with dark hair and a handsome face. His striped three-piece suit looked more slim-fitting than the other men’s, like the Ivy League boys would wear them. On the table in front of him, there was an equally expensive-looking fedora sitting next to his bourbon.

“Attaboy! Finally, there they are!” Nino announced, exasperated, when he caught sight of them. “Gentlemen, may I introduce to you Jun Matsumoto and Toma Ikuta. And these are Sho Sakurai—“ his hand went to the Ivy Leaguer, then to the sleepy-looking man next to him, “—and Satoshi Ohno.”

Jun’s shoulders tensed visibly at Nino’s words.

Their boss’s whole demeanor had cooled off and turned a friendlier page from earlier in the dressing room, his anger replaced by an almost anxious anticipation as he seemed to be in full business mode. But what did his business with the two newcomers have to do with Jun or Toma?

As if he had read his mind, Nino explained genially, “They are the writer-producer and director-choreographer, respectively, of one of the upcoming Broadway shows, called ‘Typhoon Generation’.”

“I know who they are,” Jun choked out. “Is this some kind of cruel joke?” Toma couldn’t see his friend’s face from where he stood, but his voice held a pained tone.

Nino got up from the table and strode towards Jun with a heavy sigh on his lips. “It’s an audition; no bailing for you, either. I called in a favor. Let’s see what you’re made of, now that everything’s finally on the table.” His gaze was earnest, at least most of the usual snark missing, as his small hand landed on Jun’s shoulder to squeeze it lightly. “Go get ‘em, tiger,” he winked, sharing a kind little smile with him.

When Jun turned to walk up on stage – maybe for the first time in his own, male clothes – he looked determined, any trace of insecurity or the tears shed earlier gone. Toma busied himself with turning on the spotlight to focus it on his friend. This was his big moment, after all.

“So, um, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for taking the time… What would you like me to perform?” Jun asked the two theater people, pushing his glasses up his nose with an index finger, then wringing his hands slightly, the only outward sign of how nervous he had to be.

Sakurai took a swig from his bourbon, nodding. “Pleasure’s ours. And anything’s good. Surprise us. We’ve already seen you dance, now we just wanna see you act.”

Had they been here for the show already? Why hadn’t Toma noticed their faces in the audience? He knew Jun was probably blaming himself for only having eyes for Aiba at the time, all the more after everything that had been said earlier.

But his friend just nodded solemnly, thinking for a moment, his eyes closed. In the confines of their small SoHo apartment, he had sometimes recited his favorite scenes from different plays. So Toma knew there had to be something he could give them off the top of his head.

And they didn’t have to wait more than a few seconds before they got something.

Jun’s eyes opened and his posture changed dramatically. It wasn’t so much that he looked taller as it was just him straightened up from his usual slightly hunched way of standing. Proud and imposing, he seemed to summon all of his bad temper and arrogance, before he began his monologue: “You’re a meddling, mean-spirited old man, Eros.” So he went for one of the classics, Toma knew. Something he could be sure not to stumble over. Zeus from Lucian’s “Dialogues of the Gods”. It was something Jun had first read back during his studies in London – and truly enough, even his thick New York dialect turned more and more into a British accent with every word that was coming out of his mouth, “And you won’t get any mercy from me, just because you have no beard or white hair! You were about to send me off to a tryst with death! That’s right, I know all about it!...”

Suddenly, Toma felt a hand on his shoulder and when he looked, there was Aiba beside him. “He’s amazing,” the taller man smiled, his eyes on Jun even as he was talking to Toma. “I didn’t know he was actually this good. I never bothered to ask.”

“And yet you told him you believed in him to make it to Broadway,” Toma agreed thoughtfully.

A heart-wrenching sigh escaped Masaki’s lips. “I did. But I didn’t realize what it meant.”

“…Every time you send me down to Earth to have a little fun with some mortal, I have to change into a bull, a satyr, a swan, an eagle … I’m a one-man zoo! I’m surprised you haven’t had me turn into a bunny rabbit or a titmouse...” Jun’s acting was brash and his Zeus maybe a bit young and clueless, but it fit. He got a few laughs from the table for his comedy.

Toma got back to his conversation. “So now you do know what it means?”

Masaki’s smile was full of affection. “I’m not sure I know him enough to do that. But I know I want to get to know Jun better. I want to get my stuff published, maybe have him read it first, and this time, go to the publishers not just for some fleeting acquaintances, but for the man I might be in love with.”

“Hear, hear. Big words for a traveler, if you ask me.”

“Maybe. Nino’s probably gonna rip my head off anyway, so I might as well stay a while. Have some java at that cozy place I first met you.”

“I still can’t believe you didn’t see through us instantly,” Toma smiled amiably.

“…Just once, I’d like to show up as myself—be appreciated for my own charms! I mean, what kind of woman does it with a swan?! As long as I’m honking and molting and flapping those ridiculous wings, she’s in heaven, but the second I show my true form, she nearly kills herself trying to escape! I don’t get it. Apollo doesn’t have this problem. Maybe it’s the hair.” It was strange listening to your friend’s sudden English accent and seeing him so very differently than in everyday life. The man on stage WAS Zeus, frustrated and utterly puzzled.

There was a beat, then the man on stage visibly relaxed and tensed at the same time, then bowed to the applause from the six pairs of hands still remaining. Even Yamashita had stopped in his work and was clapping.

With one of his broad smiles, Masaki went to intercept Jun as he walked off the stage. “I can be pretty dense sometimes. But so can he, I guess.”

“Guess so,” Toma smiled back, and already saw Nino approaching him.

 

* * *

**_~::||^||_~:: S I X**

“You know, flamboyant is spelled without a ‘u’?” Toma shifted Maki’s weight on his lap a little to be able to point at Masaki’s terrible handwritten notes. “Take the sailor out of the sea, but can’t take the sea out of the sailor, huh?”

The table erupted in good-natured laughter. It wasn’t everyday that they got together like this. With all the different hours they were keeping these days, it was truly a small miracle to have everyone gathered, old friends and new.

“So I’ll just use dazzling, how ‘bout that?” the sailor-turned-writer grinned broadly.

Next to him, Sho groaned quietly, and at his questioning look, Jun told his lover in a stage-whisper, “Two ‘z’s, Masaki.”

“Oh...”

Another round of snickering. It wasn’t that Masaki’s writing style was bad, and he did have a lot to tell; it had just turned out that the fella was rather dyslexic. But he hadn’t given up, quite on the contrary.

“Okay,” Masaki nodded and concentrated on re-reading the paragraphs he had written before handing them over to Sho, who had agreed to proofread for him, since his knowledge of the English language, orthography, grammar and style was the firmest. “Can I have my drink back now?” The look he was giving Jun was going for innocent and ended up goofy.

“As soon as Sho says it’s okay.”

The tips of Masaki’s ears even turned an adorable shade of pink when he got a peck on the tip of his nose.

It was early morning, the dark slowly turning into dawn, and they were the only ones left at the club, so they wouldn’t have to worry about anyone looking at them strangely or telling on them. They could all be themselves here, no one there to judge them.

“Are you fellas still here? Don’t you have homes to go to?!” Apart from Nino’s snark, of course, who got himself a chair from one of the other tables and sat down with them. “Where’s Satoshi?”

Sho absentmindedly thumbed behind him, towards the door to the back rooms. “Asleep already. He had a long day teaching all the new actors the steps. We should never have included those crowd scenes in the play,” he sighed. Then quite obviously scowled at the notebook in his hands and started reading from the top.

“But rehearsals are going well?”

Jun nodded enthusiastically. “They’re keeping us actors pretty busy by rewriting scenes again and again, but yeah. I think we’ll be getting some great reviews.”

“I expect free tickets for opening night again, Matsumoto,” Nino grinned. “After all, I’m the one providing all of you with enough hooch and a place to spend your sleepless nights at.”

“Don’t say we’re robbing you of your precious beauty sleep?” Masaki laughed.

Nino shot back, mock-seriously, “I just don’t trust you fellas enough to leave my liquor stash alone. By the way, Masaki, when’s the next shipment due? People are freezing their asses off outside and needing more to warm them.”

“How nice of you to be this worried about people’s well-being, boss,” Toma laughed, before adding a little more matter-of-factly, “Delivery’s due next Thursday, by the way. Masaki and I already did a walk-through of the operation. Everything’s gonna be copacetic.”

With a nod, Nino turned back to Jun and Masaki. “See how they’re planning to take over my joint ever since you left us for those people?” He waved in mock-despair at Masaki and Sho, which got him a laugh from Jun.

“Good to know I’m being missed. So how’re things with the new show? I thought Pi was doing swell up on stage.”

After Jun had left his Momo persona behind, Yamashita had indeed taken over, the new show under the directorial hand of Toma and with a little help from Jun and Satoshi. Pieced together from bits of vaudeville and exotic Hollywood dances, it was more of a seven-veil dance number than anything, but the regulars seemed to have grown quite fond of it. Toma himself had given up on posing as Jam when a certain cigarette girl had told him she liked him a lot better in his denims. So instead, he had asked Nino to become his right hand and thus taken over some of his boss’s business dealings.

“Pi’s never gonna be as good as Momo, may she rest in peace,” Nino lifted his tumbler for a toast and they all clinked glasses in fond memory of the club’s peach princess. Before Masaki was able to drink, though, he got his glass snatched away by Jun again.

If Toma had to guess, even his best friend sometimes missed his time with the Rainbow Club, as much as he liked what he was doing now better. He had made it to Broadway, started out as a supporting actor and now had his first trial by fire – a lead role in Sho and Satoshi’s newest piece, untitled as of yet.

“Now, about my free tickets…”

“We’ll have to see if there are any left after family and friends.” Sho didn’t even look up from Masaki’s writing this time, furiously scribbling around in it with a red marker.

Surprisingly, the serious Ivy Leaguer and his choreographer colleague had quickly become dear friends. Sho frequently came to the Rainbow Club to get zozzled, oftentimes when he was haunted by writer’s block. More often than not, Masaki was keeping him company, at least whenever Jun was still busy rehearsing. The two men had hit it off just right, and so it was no surprise that one had become the other’s proofreader at some point, even if it meant more work and even less sleep than he was getting already.

“I AM family,” Nino complained loudly, emptying his drink and getting up to get another whiskey.

At his words, Jun did look a little guilty, his eyes following his former boss while he leaned a little further into Masaki. Most naturally, his lover’s arm came to lie around his waist, and Jun’s free hand closed around it.

“Can Toma and I come, too?” Maki asked excitedly and looked directly at Sho.

There was a slight blush creeping into the man’s face at the intense gaze he was met with, but he nodded.

“We’d all feel personally offended if you didn’t,” Masaki informed her airily.

The former sailor had actually found a publisher for his writing, even though they had wanted all of it typed up instead of handwritten and scribbled into his notebook, as they had barely been able to decipher it without Masaki’s help. Still, in his charming ways, he had been able to convince the publisher to give him an advance, with which he had moved into a small apartment with Jun. It had been a sad day for Toma when he had helped his roommate move his few belongings, even though all of them had known they would still see each other often.

“Of course we’ll be there,” Toma assured his friends. He wouldn’t want to miss the new show for the world.

Jun smiled happily at him, which from time to time still made Toma’s heart flutter a bit. “This time I even told my family,” he announced quietly. “I told them I’m back in the city and invited them to see the show. They’re gonna be there, both my parents and my sister with her husband. I have to admit I am a bit nervous about that.”

Not once since Toma had known him had he lost a single word about his family. And Toma had known better than to ask. He hadn’t known that his parents were still alive or that Jun had a sister. But as his friend was speaking of them now, his eyes were shining brightly, animatedly.

“My family’s gonna come all the way from Jersey, too,” Masaki nudged him.

Jun’s answer, though, was a melodramatic groan. “Great, even more reason to worry.”

“I know you’ll do just fine.”

And to the cheers and laughter of their friends, Masaki leaned in to kiss the man he loved, and who loved him back.

 

**_~::||^||_~:: T H E   E N D _~::||^||_~::**


	2. Glossary

_**_~::||^||_~:: 1 9 2 0 S   S L A N G   G L O S S A R Y** _

_balled up = confused, messed up_  
 _baloney = nonsense_  
 _bee's knees = terrific_  
 _bell bottom = sailor_  
 _big cheese = important person_  
 _bootleg = illegal liquor_  
 _cake-eater = in the 1920’s refers to a “ladies’ man”; later, slang for homosexual_  
 _cash or check? = kiss now or later?_  
 _copacetic = excellent, all in order_  
 _doll = an attractive woman_  
 _drum = speakeasy_  
 _fella = fellow. as common in its day as "man," "dude," or "guy" is today_  
 _flapper = a stylish, brash, hedonistic young woman with short skirts and shorter hair_  
 _giggle water = alcohol_  
 _go chase youself! =get out of here!_  
 _goofy = in love_  
 _to rain pitchforks = a downpour_  
 _Jane = any female_  
 _juice joint = speakeasy_  
 _let's get a wiggle on! = let’s get a move on!_  
 _sheik = one's boyfriend_  
 _spifflicated = drunk_  
 _swanky = ritzy, elegant_  
 _swell = good, wonderful_  
 _to be level with s.o. = to be honest with s.o._  
 _to beef = to complain_  
 _to hit on all sixes = to perform 100 per cent; as "hitting on all six cylinders"_  
 _to neck = to kiss passionately_  
 _to pet = like necking (see above), only more so; making out_  
 _zozzled = drunk_


End file.
